A Stroke of Lightning
by Eighth Swordsman of the Mist
Summary: Paris never would have guessed a chanced meeting in Cordelica would have so profoundly impacted her life. Nor did she guess this seemingly unassuming Summoner would be the catalyst behind it. What she does know, however, is that she can't get him out of her head and she's determined to find out why. Cover image by litkung on DeviantArt.


_**A Stroke of Lightning**_

Paris couldn't count how many times she walked the grand halls of the Imperial Palace. She had long grown accustomed to the tall marble pillars that held aloft various sections of the palace's wings and those that were for purely decorative and symbolic reasons. Rich, red-wine carpeting lined the long hallways leading to her destination with various nobles and servants passing by her on the way. She withheld a small look of distaste at the numerous tacky decorations, hiding it behind a near-perfect mask of indifference she put on while dealing with the nobility and their elk within Randall.

Having been born into nobility and subsequently surrounded by it her entire life, Paris found she developed a degree cynicism whenever it came to excessive spending on useless flaunts of wealth. She would never dare to mention it out loud in the company of said nobles, but she was heavily disappointed with such wasteful spending when it could be better used to help the economically poor citizens of Randall.

'_Or better yet, use it to start restoration projects and clean out the slums; build shelters for everyone in the area to live in while the slums are cleaned out and rebuilt,' _she idly mused to herself.

Lost in her thoughts, she hardly noticed she arrived at her destination until she stared at a familiar and rich, dark oak door. Paris smooths over her white and gold embroiled Imperial Guard uniform. Tugging on her white, lightly armored sleeves and making sure her elegant rapier was still secure in its scabbard on her side, she tucks away a stray blonde hair and let out a breath to compose herself before gently wrapping her knuckles on the door.

"_Enter," _came the regal voice from inside the room. Paris opened the door with a not even a sound as she entered, closing it behind her with a soft click. "Lord Eriole, I have returned from my assignment to Mistral," she greeted the man with an elegant smile on her face.

The man she addressed lifted his head from his work, setting his pen down atop of the current paper he was busy with and returning her smile with one of his own. "Paris, welcome back to Randall. I trust everything went well?"

Lord Eriole stood up from his desk, gliding around it with grace befitting his status as lord and leader of the Imperial Guard of Randall. His elegant, ruby red robes and white undershirt clashing well with his own blond hair and youthful looks. Eriole's lilac eyes focused on Paris's own aquamarine as he folded his arms behind his back, patiently awaiting her report.

Paris felt herself straighten her own posture, coming into the familiar at-attention form that was drilled relentlessly into her head at the Imperial Academy with ease. "It is as you suspected, Sir, the Akras Summoner's Hall has taken over the southern part of Mistral. Our own government sources have confirmed this along with my report."

Eriole didn't seem at all surprised by this from the neutral look on his face, simply nodding his head and turning to pace towards the window at the end of his office. "…Yes, so I've heard. And has the Summoner's Hall confirmed who or whom defeated the Fallen God of the region?"

Paris withheld the urge to shift on her feet uneasily. "…No Sir, they have not let slip who defeated Maxwell. Even after checking with several of our contacts within, the Hall has been rather tight-lipped about it. It's almost as if they don't know themselves despite how ridiculous the notion is."

_That_ seemed to draw Eriole's attention. There was very little that seemed to surprise her lord, but this was one of the rare few times she had seen it happen. Eriole pivoted on his feet back to her, halting in his stride to the window. His eyebrows lifted a few inches upward as the faintest amounts of surprise broke through the mask of confidence he usually wore proudly.

"Truly, then? That is… most unexpected. One would think Akras would be proudly proclaiming that one of their Regulars defeated the Fallen God Maxwell, especially with how meritless their Regular Army is with a few exceptions." Eriole stroked his chin in thought, his face scrunching up in thought as he pondered the sudden twist this took.

Paris herself was slightly curious as to what was going on in her lord's head. No doubt something that would benefit their cause. Perhaps if they could recruit this individual or group into their ranks, it would be a great boon; bolster their small but elite army and secure more resources from Grand Gaia while also potentially dealing with the three remaining Fallen Gods that ruled their own territory.

"…Paris, I want you to travel to Cordelica. I need you to be my eyes and ears there, keeping me informed of any emerging developments on the frontier." Eriole eventually spoke, turning to regard her with a serious look on his face.

For her part, Paris was mildly taken back by the order. She had just returned from Mistral and already she was being sent back? Still, despite her silent complaints, she didn't let any of it show on her face, simply nodding along. "Of course, Sir." Still though, that begged the question, "...And as for my normal duties, Sir?"

Eriole waved her concern off, returning to look out the window which gazed at the bustling capital below them. Paris herself could easily see the Akras Summoner's Hall administration center; a large, blue domed building that sat atop a plateau with a man-made waterfall serenely falling into a lake below it. She amused herself in the irony of how clear it was both factions were on opposite sides: physically and ideologically.

"Do not worry about it, I shall explain to the Emperor the situation; he'll understand."

Paris bowed her head in respect, "Thank you, Sir. In that case, I'll be on my way." His nodding head was the only indication she needed before immediately leaving the room, closing the door behind her.

Left alone in the long hallway once again, she couldn't help but voice her thoughts. "Strange, I wonder why he's sending me? Surely there is someone more suited for this role." She shook her head; such thoughts were rebellious. Lord Eriole clearly trusted her with this important task, no matter how bothersome it was. And who was she, his personal guard, to betray such wishes?

_**AN: I suppose I should start off with the fact this fic is sort of a passion project and spur-of-the-moment type of thing. This fic was partly inspired by TsundereVanilla on Reddit with their one-shot Paris x Summoner fic. My beta has given her OK for the fic (I.e., making sure my descriptions don't get overblown as I have a tendency to do so). I personally hope I'm able to complete it – a first! – before Global is shutdown whenever that is. Without further ado, here's the next brain child of mine! **_


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